


on the bus mall.

by katarama



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, F/F, First Meetings, Fluff, Meet-Cute, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-05-12 07:05:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5657170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katarama/pseuds/katarama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When they get closer, they see the light of a small ticket stand and a sign with prices for buses to the airport.  Malia marches up to it, and Kira follows slowly behind, glancing around.  The fact that there’s a ticket stand means it must be the right place, but it’s 45 minutes until departure, and the lot is virtually empty.  Scanning around, Kira doesn’t see any sign of the familiar blue and yellow Megabus.  </p><p>What she does see, though, is a thin girl in a black sweater sitting on the curb, a duffel bag on the ground under her outstretched legs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	on the bus mall.

“Are you sure this is the right place?” **  
**

Kira pulls her phone out and flips through the screenshots she took of the google map directions.  It doesn’t look like they’ve missed any turns, though it’s a bit difficult to tell.  There’s no markings or signs of identification whatsoever, though it’s dark, and it’s possible that she’s missing something.

“No,” Kira admits.

Malia groans and sticks out her hand for Kira’s phone.  She thumbs through the pictures herself, glances at the map at the end, and shrugs.  “Just looks wrong.” 

Kira doesn’t disagree.  When she read “coach park”, she naively thought that that meant there was going to be an actual bus station.  She and Malia planned to get there early and sit somewhere in the station and wait together.  Maybe get coffee, if there was a Starbucks.

Instead, it’s 11:00 PM, and they’re standing on the sidewalk, approaching what appears to be a small gate and an empty, poorly-lit parking lot.

“Well, it can’t be the /wrong/ place?” Kira says.  “We stopped in the mall to go to the bathroom.  The map says it’s practically across the street, and we’re facing in the right direction.  It should be right there.  We can do a circle around if you want, to see if there’s anything else?”

Malia considers it for a moment before shaking her head.  “Nah,” Malia says, rolling her shoulders and shifting on the balls of her feet to evenly distribute the weight in her backpack.  “Let’s get a closer look first.”

The wind tugs at Kira’s braided pigtails, even with the tops held close to her head by her favorite beanie.  She pulls her coat closed around her, ignoring the zipper - she hated the amount of space the coat took up when she packed it, but now that she’s out with the sun down, she’s glad for the warmth.  The wind has a bite to it, enough to make Kira shiver.  

When they get closer, they see the light of a small ticket stand and a sign with prices for buses to the airport.  Malia marches up to it, and Kira follows slowly behind, glancing around.  The fact that there’s a ticket stand means it must be the right place, but it’s 45 minutes until departure, and the lot is virtually empty.  Scanning around, Kira doesn’t see any sign of the familiar blue and yellow Megabus.  

What she does see, though, is a thin girl in a thin black sweater sitting on the curb, a duffel bag on the ground under her outstretched legs.  Her long, curly hair is pulled back into a ponytail, the loose wisps of hair framing her face jostled by the wind.  She’s staring off into the distance, the light from the lamps casting shadows on her delicate features.  She’s perfectly still and perfectly composed, her face neutral.  She looks perfectly at home, alone in the parking lot.  Kira admires it a little bit; she feels jittery and exposed, anxious with more than just traveling nerves.

Kira can hear the flattening tone and rising volume of Malia’s conversation with the man behind the plexiglass of the ticket counter, who refuses to speak in English.  She probably should intercede, but she knows that Malia will realize the futility of it soon enough.  Malia’s cousin is the polyglot in the family, and the only French Malia knows she picked up from watching the cooking channel with Stiles.

Kira has always been hopeless with languages, so she doesn’t even try to mediate between the two.  She leaves Malia with her face pressed close to the glass, the sound of rapid French, and walks towards the curb.

“Excuse me,” she says tentatively to the girl, reaching up to adjust her beanie self-consciously.  “Is this where the midnight Megabus picks up?  My friend and I have never been here before, and we couldn’t find where else it could be, but, well…”  

“No one else is here?” the girl suggests.  Kira can practically see her thought process in action, the way she gives Kira a quick once-over, like she’s searching for a threat.  She doesn’t seem to find one, because she softens, the intimidating neutrality fading from her face.

“Yeah.  No one is here,” Kira agrees.  “No one but you and me and Malia.”

“Is that your friend?” the girl asks, tilting her head towards Malia.  

“Yeah,” Kira says.  “We’re studying abroad together in London, and we had a break.  My dad had a conference to go to, and Malia’s family doesn’t do much for Christmas, so we decided to travel, instead.”

“That guy has been listing off office supplies at her for about five minutes now,” the girl says.  “You can tell her she’s in the right place.”

“Thank you so much,” Kira says, letting a deep breath out.  She sets her bag down next to the girl and sits down on the curb.  It is hardly comfortable, and it’s probably a little bit dirty, but after all the walking she’s been doing, Kira is grateful for somewhere to sit at all.  “You’re my new hero, I think.”

“Yeah?” she teases.  “You don’t even know my name.”

“I can call you Parisian Hero Girl,” Kira says, grinning.  “I could be like Cisco and pass out superhero names.”  

“You’d be American Lost Girl,” she teases.  “The plucky sidekick who looks very cute in her beanie.”

Kira can feel her cheeks heating up.  She doesn’t know what to say to that besides a ‘thank you’ or a ‘you’re very beautiful too’, and she’s thankful when she’s saved from giving an answer by Malia boots clomping their way over to her.

“If this isn’t the place, we’re out of options, Kira,” Malia says, tossing her backpack down next to Kira and plopping down.  “We can live forever in Paris, roaming the streets and eating only crepes and baguettes.”

Kira giggles.  “You’re spending too much time around Stiles,” she says.  “We’re in the right place, though.  We’re where we need to be.”

“Awesome.  Then it looks like we’re just waiting for the bus.”

* * *

 

The bus is big but cramped, and by the time it pulls into the parking lot, a small crowd has gathered.  It isn’t a full bus, though, and Kira, Malia, and Allison get a section to themselves near the back of the bus.  Kira knows that it’s because that’s where the bathroom is, but she doesn’t really care, if it gets the three of them a bit of privacy and extra space.

Malia is disgruntled that the boarding passes they printed out told them to get there 45 minutes early and that the bus doesn’t arrive until 20 minutes before departure, but the minute their passports have been checked, the driver has outlined bus rules, and the lights are off, Malia’s headphones are in and she’s fast asleep in her chair.  Kira envies her; Malia can fall asleep just about anywhere, but Kira struggles with moving vehicles.  She’s bracing herself for a long, rough night when Allison whispers from across the aisle.

“So.  Kira.” she says, testing the word with her mouth quietly.  She has a pretty mouth, Kira thinks.  Her lips are neutral and muted, covered a soft lipstick that Kira really likes.  “I don’t know, it doesn’t have anything on Cute Lost American Girl.”

“Do I get to know Elusive Parisian Superhero’s name?” Kira asks hopefully, but the girl just laughs.

“Not yet,” she says.  “But you do get to know that I’m not actually Parisian.”

“Usually a superhero’s secret identity is revealed before you get their origin story,”  Kira teases.  She can see the girl’s grin lit up by the streetlights, and it makes her feel warm to her core.  “Where are you from?”

“Elusive American Superhero is much less exciting than Elusive Parisian Superhero, but my parents live in California,” she says.  “We have lots of family here in Paris, so we’re staying with them for Christmas break.  I’m going to visit an old friend in London right now, though.”

“How long are you there for?” Kira asks.  

The girl turns her knees into the aisle so she can face Kira.  Kira tries to follow suit, but the girl’s legs are too long, and their knees knock.  “Two weeks.  Jackson works during the day, though, so I’m going to be doing a lot of solo traveling.”

It’s on the tip of Kira’s tongue to offer to be the girl’s guide around London.  She wouldn’t call herself anything near an expert on even just Central London, and she still has to look up street names and plot her path on google maps sometimes, but she knows enough to guide someone through a lot of the highlights.  She knows how to get to Buckingham Palace and Tower Bridge and Big Ben and Trafalgar Square.

She doesn’t say anything, though.  She lets the girl talk about her friend, about how they met and the plans they’ve made for going out at nights.

The conversation moves on, and Kira follows it where it goes.  But she resolves to be braver the next time.  She may be in London for the rest of the year, but at the end of this year, she and Malia both go back to California.

* * *

 

The bus drives onto the ferry, and Kira does her best to remember where they’re parked.  She makes a note about it to herself on her phone, though she’s not optimistic about her phone battery lasting through the whole ferry ride.  

They snag a table with an outlet so Kira can charge up.  Kira watches Malia’s stuff while she tracks down a bathroom, and Kira passes Malia most of their Euros to go buy snacks.  Kira wants to save a few Euro coins for posterity, but they’ll be back in the land of pounds, soon, and she won’t need a while coin purse full of them.

The girl looks like the late hours are finally starting to catch up with her, after a bus ride of surprising alertness.  Her hair is losing a little bit of its curl, and her eyes look tired, her smiles no less dimpled, but definitely less bright.  She told Kira that she’s good at sleeping on public transportation if the trip is long enough, but she talked to Kira the entire ride so far, and when Kira apologized and offered to let her sleep, she told her not to worry about it.  

Kira wonders if it’s partly that she’s traveling alone.  Kira knows that she wouldn’t sleep easy if she didn’t have Malia there with her.  On a basic level, having two people means they can take turns sleeping without having to worry about their stuff going missing, and they have pooled resources.  Really, though, Kira doesn’t know what she would do, traveling without Malia.  Malia is a much bolder, braver traveler than Kira, and she’s amazingly steady in a crisis.  They travel well together.

The girl doesn’t have a Malia, or even a Kira.  It’s just her, her tall brown boots and thin sweater and duffel bag.  

“Does it get lonely traveling alone?” Kira asks.  

“Sometimes,” the girl admits.  “I’ve mostly been with my family when I travel.  We moved around a lot, growing up, so I’m used to that.  And I travel back and forth between school and home, but it’s not far.  Driving distance, if you’re willing to drive a couple hours.  Not far at all for California.  It’s weird going around by myself here, though.”

“You’re welcome to hang out with us,” Kira says before she can lose her nerve.  “I have just a little bit more free time before classes start again.  If you ever get lonely while you’re in London.”

The girl smiles at her, grateful and warm.  “I’d like that,” she says.  Kira’s immensely proud of herself, both for being brave enough to say something and for the reassured glow that’s coming from the girl sitting across the table from her.

By the time Malia comes back with enough snacks to last them three ferry rides, the girl is fast asleep with her head on the table, her duffel bag a pillow.  

Kira feels exhausted but trusted, and it feels like she’s done something really, really right.

* * *

 

By the time the bus pulls up to London Victoria, Kira is so bone dead tired that even she got some sleep.  After going through customs, Malia claimed that she wanted more space and had swapped seats with the girl, leaving Kira free to rest her head on the slightly bony but not entirely uncomfortable crook of the girl’s neck.  Their hands brush, and Kira wants to place her hand in the girl’s much bigger one.  She doesn’t, though.  

The motion of the bus stopping and people moving around jostles Kira awake.  She doesn’t want to leave the bus.  Not when she’s snuggled in the seat next to a pretty girl who she’s almost positive was flirting with her.  The girl let her drool on her shoulder, and doesn’t seem to mind that she’s an absolute mess.  Kira can feel her braids coming out, her clothes rumpled and her beanie crooked and her skin a mess.  She feels like she’s been dragged through the mud, groggy and gross after the long trip.

“Allison,” the girl says before they get off the bus.  It takes Kira a moment to figure out what she’s talking about, but when she realizes she’s just been given the girl’s name, she’s floored.  The girl takes a pen from her duffel bag and carefully writes her number on Kira’s hand, the numbers big and dark on Kira’s skin.  

“I’ll text you,” Kira promises.

The girl ( _Allison_ , Kira mentally amends) smiles at Kira.  “I’d like that. We can grab lunch together, sometime before I leave.  Just you and me.”

Allison follows Kira off the bus, duffel bag strap around her shoulder.  The moment when Kira waves her off and heads her own way with Malia should feel bittersweet and sad, but it doesn’t feel like a goodbye.

She’ll see her again soon.  She’s sure of it.

**Author's Note:**

> Created for the Teen Wolf Femslash Secret Santa! On tumblr [here](sleepy-skittles.tumblr.com).


End file.
